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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864761">A Hand to Hold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeenaWrites/pseuds/MeenaWrites'>MeenaWrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fairy Tail</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Romance, Slow Romance, Trains</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:28:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,984</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeenaWrites/pseuds/MeenaWrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you just need someone to hold your hand and tell you everything is going to be okay. </p><p>Lucy always sees the same pinkette on the way home from work, but hasn't talked  to him until one particularly bad night.</p><p>************<br/>This is going to be a multi-part fic, but as my schedule is kind of unpredictable, it will probably have slow updates. I'm very excited fro this though, and hope you like it!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gray Fullbuster/Juvia Lockser, Jellal Fernandes/Erza Scarlet, Laxus Dreyar/Mirajane Strauss, Levy McGarden/Gajeel Redfox, Natsu Dragneel/Lucy Heartfilia, Romeo Conbolt/Wendy Marvell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Hand to Hold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys! So this will be my first multi-part fic on here, and I'm very excited about it! As it says in the summary, this will have slow updates though, because i don't have a lot of time these days. But it WILL continue, so hang in there if you like the first chapter please!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fall chill only served to accentuate the wetness of her shirt and pants, the distinct tang of alcohol flooding her nostrils. She pulled her wet cardigan closer around her in some vain attempt to conserve more heat. She probably looked like some drunk hooligan to passersby, not that there were many people around past midnight. The truth was that she'd had some particularly rough customers at the bar she worked at, <i>Dionysis' Corner</i>. Rowdy men with a familiar alcohol haze in their eyes and lust-fueled hands. Lucy hadn't taken it lying down of course; Capricorn would have had her head if she couldn't defend herself from a few drunk men, but her martial arts skills didn't account for having vodka thrown at her. </p><p>She climbed the stairs to the train platform, reminding herself to report them to the owner in the morning so that they would be banned from the bar. Her mind whirled, mentally going down her bullet-pointed to-do list. Pay this month's rent. Pay the coming quarter's tuition. Start her sociology paper. Read the chapters for her psychology class. A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down immediately. </p><p>
  <i>It's going to be okay. Everything's going to be fine. You still have the results to look forward to.</i>
</p><p>An approaching clattering sound warned her of the train's arrival, and she rose from her seat, trying to rub away the lingering stickiness of vodka onto the wood. </p><p>The doors slid open, and she stepped into the practically empty car. The amount of people in the train at this time varied, except for one person who was a constant. Every night, in the very same car, was a young man that looked to be her age. He was quite handsome, though Lucy did her best not to be too noticeable in looking. He had tan skin, a firm jaw, and from what Lucy had seen on summer nights, beautifully defined arm muscles. The most peculiar thing about him though, was his hair. It stuck up in spikes around his head–though whether that was with the help of gel or natural she didn't know–and it was pink, like dark cherry blossoms. </p><p>Generally, the young man was either sleeping or listening to music, Lucy could never tell, but he always miraculously woke up for his stop, which was only three stops before her own. On the rare occasions he was awake, he would not at her with a polite smile which she returned. Tonight however, it seemed that he was sleeping. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, legs bent at an angle as he was slumped against the far wall, chin tucked into his sweatshirt, white earbuds in his ears. <i>What I would give to be wearing a hoodie right now.</i> Yet another thing to be added to her list: buy a hoodie.</p><p>Lucy tried to be as silent as possible as she went to take a seat a little ways away from the man, wincing at the squelching sound her clothes produced against the plastic seat. She tried again to wipe the stickiness off her hands before she pulled her phone out of her bag, resting her elbows on her knees. She quickly opened her search browser and typed in the URL she had memorized, teeth grinding on her lip. The winners were supposed to be announced any minute now. She kept hitting refresh, anticipation and heart rate mounting with each one, until the winners' column finally appeared. </p><p>She feverishly scanned the list, heart skipping a beat whenever she encountered an "L". </p><p>Nothing. No Lucy Ashley. </p><p>Her hands went numb, the phone, which had just been the representative of her hope, was now an utterly useless hunk of junk. </p><p>
  <i>I didn't win the writing contest.</i>
</p><p>It was the fourth time. The fourth time she'd entered and been rejected. Time and time again a blow to her pride, her faith in her skills. </p><p>
  <i>It's fine. Every writer who's ever made it has gotten rejected more than once.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It's fine.</i>
</p><p>Shaky breaths. </p><p>
  <i>You're fine.</i>
</p><p>Her damp, sticky clothes were suddenly too much, impending payment deadlines looming like stone giants in her mind. </p><p><i>You are fine.</i> </p><p>Assignments collided together in her brain like meteors.</p><p>
  <i>You. Are. Fine.</i>
</p><p>Everything culminated into one large balloon of stress. </p><p>Pop.</p><p>Her tear ducts overflowed and her chest tightened as sobs racked her body. Logically, she knew that it was okay to cry, healthy even, but all she could hear was her father shouting, <i>"Why are you crying?! Heartfilias do not cry!"</i></p><p>It felt like she was swimming in a ball pool, each little ball filled with a worry of hers, all of them moving to touch her, to grab her attention. The small part of her still in tune with rational thought was appalled at how many tears she had to spend. </p><p>A voice cut through the storm.</p><p>"Hey, what's wrong?"</p><p>Lucy started, sobs grinding to a momentary halt as she took in the disgruntled looking pinkette. </p><p>"Sorry, I didn't mean to–hiccough–wake you up," she managed, cringing as more hiccoughs erupted from her. </p><p>She hurriedly rubbed at her eyes, pulling her sleeves back immediately as the already wet fabric came into contact with her face. </p><p>"It's ok," he shrugged, unfolding himself so that he was sitting properly. "What's wrong?"</p><p>In any other state of mind, Lucy would have been slightly offended, or at least defensive, at the directness of the inquiry, but she was honestly too tired to care. And it was nice to feel like someone gave a shit about what was wrong. </p><p>"Just been an especially bad day today," she said simply, gesturing to her wet clothes. </p><p>He wrinkled his nose, clearly smelling the sharp tang of liquor. </p><p>"I didn't drink any of what's on me," she hurried to say. </p><p>"Nah it's cool, you don't seem drunk." He hunched back against the wall, tip of his chin sinking into his hoodie again. "I get it though. Today hasn't been the greatest for me either."</p><p>Lucy blinked away tears, her heart finally beginning to settle down. Now that he had captured her attention, she could clearly see the dark bags framing his eyes and his drawn brows. </p><p>"Yeah, I can tell," she responded, flashing what she hoped was a supportive smile. </p><p><i>I probably look like crap</i>, she realized. Puffy red-rimmed eyes, tear tracks running across her cheeks, stinking of booze. She silently thanked her past self for forgetting to put on mascara that morning.</p><p>"Sorry you had a shitty day. I hope it gets better, for what it's worth coming from a stranger," the young man said after a moment's silence.</p><p>Lucy sniffled and laughed a little, the heavy giant of Stress on her shoulders lightening slightly. "It means a lot actually, thank you."</p><p>The corners of his lips quirked upwards in response. </p><p>Lucy leaned back in her seat, looking up at the mottled gray top of the train car. </p><p>"It's just, on days like this," she found herself saying. "I always think how nice it would be to have someone to hold my hand and just tell me it's going to be okay, even if it might not be. Not like I want a boyfriend or something but just one person I can depend on just to do that. Just to say those five words. 'Cause let me tell you, it's not very effective saying them to myself."</p><p>Silence ensued, and heat crept up Lucy's neck as the full implications of rambling like this to a stranger struck her. </p><p>"Sorry, that was probably weird wasn't it?" she said quickly, looking at him apologetically. "Shutting up now."</p><p>"No. No, it's not weird at all. I actually think that sounds like a really nice person to have, just someone who is always there to reassure you," he said, voice tapering off wistfully. The set of his mouth as he smiled spoke of a sadness below the surface, closed off carefully enough so that nothing but this small indication slipped.</p><p>"Exactly..."</p><p>The smile dropped and the pinkette seemed to be mulling something over, brows furrowing pensively. His gaze flicked back to hers so suddenly, Lucy couldn't help but jump slightly in her seat. </p><p>"I can be that for you if you want?" </p><p>"Wh-What?" Lucy sputtered, not daring to believe he was proposing what she thought he was. </p><p>"I mean we always take the same train, right? I can be that for you and maybe you can be that for me? Get each other through the day?" He said, leaving no doubt as to his intentions.</p><p>"Really? You're okay doing this with a complete stranger?" She asked curiously, blinking away the last of her tears. </p><p>The smile he showed her this time was genuine, mischief and mirth dancing across his expression.</p><p>"Well, you're not a <i>complete</i> stranger. You nod to me on the train whenever I'm actually awake. That's gotta count for something."</p><p>Lucy couldn't help but laugh at the simplicity of the statement. Rather than be scared or at least apprehensive of his proposition (she really didn't know anything about him after all), her long extinguished excitement sparked to life. </p><p>The pinkette slid across the seats until he was directly next to her, and she could feel the heat emanating from him. Her laughter died at the serious set of his brows, and a tinge of pink rose to her cheeks. He held his hand out in front of her, fingers spread. The blonde was surprised at her own lack of hesitation as her fingers slipped between his. </p><p>The calluses at the base of his fingers pressed into her own, unmarked skin. His fingers gripped hers firmly, but not in a way that hurt or led her to feel trapped; it was more comfortable, as if only as a way to make sure she knew he was there, a solid, supportive presence. </p><p>Her gaze slid back up to meet his, marveling slightly at the hues of green and gold that had been hidden from her up until now. The intensity of his gaze was smoldering, as if she were sitting directly in front of a blazing hearth. </p><p>He gave her hand a light squeeze. </p><p>"It's going to be okay."</p><p>His voice sounded deeper at this proximity, each word spoken with conviction, and that ease, that liberation that she'd often dreamed of on nights like this was born. The balls of anxiety shrunk until they were the size of tiny beads, and each clicked into its proper place in her to-do list. Still stress-inducing, but now organized, manageable.</p><p>Lucy resisted the urge to look away from the sheer intensity of the pinkette's gaze, trying instead to mimic it as she gave his hand a slight squeeze of her own. </p><p>"Everything's going to be okay," she said, trying to pump those five words full of as much certainty as she could offer.</p><p>Something softened in the young man's gaze, and he nodded almost unconsciously. He relaxed against the back of the seat, breaking eye contact. The scorching intensity that had held the both of them a moment ago was suddenly no more, and Lucy slumped backwards too, eyelids suddenly drooping with fatigue.</p><p>"Thank you." </p><p>A soft gratitude, not meeting her eyes.</p><p>"I should be thanking you," she breathed, taking comfort in the warmth of his hand in hers, like a delicate flame.</p><p>They sat comfortably for a moment, hands still joined without a care in the world, before her companion said, "Your hand is sticky."</p><p>Lucy snorted, having long since passed the point of feeling any degree of embarrassment.</p><p>"Yeah, well that's a long story," she said, noting that he made no move to remove his hand despite his remark.</p><p>He glanced side-long at her. </p><p>"We've got time."</p><p>A simple invitation that Lucy was happy to oblige.</p><p>"Okay, so there were these two guys..."</p>
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